Notes on the New Year

Savoring, Wintering, Yoking, and a Seasonal Slow-Read

It's in vain to recall the past, unless it works some influence upon the present.
Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:29-30

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Happy new year, dear ones—

I’m savoring the last few days of the holiday with our family, even the petty squabbles over whose turn it is to clean the bathroom. Next week, we will resume our typical school and work routines, and our oldest three will again scatter across the country. The house will feel more spacious, clean, and quiet, but as I once was assured by older, wiser mothers, I am now relishing the noisy mess. My husband has told the story of his grandfather, who, as a young boy during the Depression, received an orange one year for Christmas. I currently have a bowl of oranges on my counter, yet I have always expected that his particular orange tasted sweeter than any I’ve known. These days together as a family have felt like my Christmas orange, something that cannot be shelved or preserved but eaten with the utmost attention and joy. This is our perpetual work as mothers, learning to receive and savor the fruit given to us in each season.

The new year in the Northern Hemisphere emerges in the darkest, coldest season, which I have come to treasure as a mother. In this season, nature rests. Animals hibernate. Plants and trees become dormant. Vibrancy fades. The world sleeps. As one who naturally loves to consider the future and form plans, the stark quietness of winter sets the bright energy of ambitious habits and routines in an annual context. The nourished, robust work of spring and summer starts with the humble, unseen work of winter. Winter reminds us of the significance of rest and that growth always begins beneath the surface. Or as the writer of Proverbs phrases it, from the heart flow the springs of life.¹ Slow, seemingly small beginnings are still beginnings. One small shift in a habit is still a shift. A meaningful habit at home can begin with a meaningful habit of the heart.

Perhaps as we each look at the grand work set before us this year, we need to freshly receive Christ’s words in our lives at the start: take my yoke upon you, and I will give you rest. What is true for the early disciples, wearied by the burdens of the Pharisees in their effort of faithfulness, is true for the mother burdened by the surmounting needs around her in her efforts toward the good. We need Christ in it all. For me, this yoking begins newly each day, often in the dark, while the world sleeps. In the early years of mothering, when waking and sleeping hours happened around the clock, these quiet moments of confessed need, requested wisdom and strength, and receiving Christ in the Scriptures happened around the clock, too—in rocking chairs, in the backyard, after bedtimes, or somewhere in between. There is no magic hour except the one you make available to him. For more specifics on keeping my soul, “Governing Your Soul” and “A Spring of Life” will be helpful.

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A Winter Slow Read | Reclaiming Quiet

I am hosting a seasonal slow-read here on Substack, one book to lead us through each season in 2025. As one who often reads more than one book at once and paces more quickly, reading slowly requires discipline in attention that benefits my soul differently, more deeply. Like the plant roots that better absorb the slow dribble of water over time than the deluge at once, so it is with reading slowly and the soul. The percolating ideas nourish the roots of our daily living. Plus, it allows margin for all of the unexpected. These reads are open to everyone, but the discussion will be exclusively for paid members of this community.

We are beginning the year with Reclaiming Quiet: Cultivating a Life of Holy Attention by Sarah Clarkson. I first read this book last summer and knew immediately that I wanted to reread it at the start of the year to nurture the attentive habits of my ever-distracted heart. I would love for you to join me!

I am still undecided on how best to facilitate discussion and am looking for feedback from those of you who would like to join. I intend to host a live monthly call or keep an ongoing conversation in my Substack Chat for those who want to participate. Please vote for your favorite option below.

We will begin the slow-read this week at a pace of one chapter a week (about 10 pages/week), making it easy for anyone to jump in as we go. The book is already neatly divided into three parts, and we will cover one part per month this winter. Sarah ends each chapter with a prayer and a few questions, which will help guide our reading and discussion. I am expectant for all of the small, quiet growth we will experience through it together.

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Take care this week, friends—